Why Can't I?
by DarlingILoveYou
Summary: Bad things aren't the only things that come from hate. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Not my character's, only my scene. The song is Hanging By a Moment, by Lifehouse. Also, bloody brilliant.**

"Hi." I said, hesitantly, walking up to James, who was sitting on the common room couch. He looked up, acknowledging I was there, but said nothing. "I… I wanted to tell you something." I started. He looked slightly surprised. "I know about… I know about Remus." He raised his eyebrows.

"How much do you know?" He asked slowly and cautiously.

"Erm… I know he's werewolf…" What else was there?

"Oh," He said nonchalantly. "You barely know anything." He stated it bluntly, in a non hurtful way. And, yet, it still hurt – though I'd never show him that. I fiercely glared at him. "Oh – no!" He said, catching what he said. I turned on my heel and yanked the portrait hole open, storming out.

"No, no, no! Wait! LILY! STOP! JUST- LILY, COME BACK! I DIDN'T MEAN TO – I MEAN – LILY! STOP IT!" We were now coming into a crowded hall, with students lining both sides. "LILY, PLEASE!" James shouted behind me, almost catching up. Realizing that if he did, he would have a sort of satisfaction, I whirled around. He almost ran into me, to my displeasure.

"_Potter_," I spat. He face cringed into a regretful expression. Heads turned to watch another Lily-Is-Pissed-At-James fight. They weren't even really fights; just me yelling at him and sometimes hitting him. Of course, it only made me angrier when he refused to hurt me – physically _or_ verbally. Most people think it's cute that he just stands there and lets me abuse him, instead of fighting back. And, to be honest, I did, too, most of the time. Except when I just want to _fight_. "I already tried talking to you. But, I AM TOO INCOMPETENT TO TALK!" I yelled in his face, poking him hard in the chest when I said 'talk'. Spinning back around, I stomped off again. The students on the walls were watching us like we were a tennis match. James – Lily – James – Lily.

"GUH! WHY CAN'T I TALK TO YOU?" He said, angry at himself. His voice seemed further away, like he'd stopping following me. I was upset and pleased all at one time.

"Ask yourself that question, Potter. I obviously can't answer it, because I BARELY KNOW ANYTHING!" I yelled over my shoulder.

"Because I love you!" I heard a voice call weakly from behind me. I froze, one foot stopped in front of the other.

That couldn't have been James. James wouldn't say that – especially not in front of all these people. That couldn't have been his voice. But, yet, as I looked up from my feet – which was where my previous glare had been directed – everyone was staring at me. Waiting. Why didn't people look shocked? Why was I the only one surprised? Why couldn't I move my feet? Why couldn't I walk away? Why couldn't I block out his voice? Why couldn't I get him out of my head? Why was everyone one holding their breath? Why was there absolutely not a word being uttered?

Turning as though I had cement blocks glued to my feet, with dramatic slowness, and increasing annoyance at the fact that our private discussion had turned into a public one… I turned to face him. He was wearing a terrified expression, but his jaw was set stubbornly. The muscles in his neck were strained and he was standing stiffly, with his hands clenched tightly into fists. He looked like he was waiting for explosions and pain. And, suddenly, I felt like a horrible person.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My expression was flickering between me frowning, biting my lip, looking confused, and looking surprised. I closed my mouth. And then tried a second time, but still no words came out. I wasn't really sure what would come out, anyway. Probably just a stream of words that made no sense – because that's what my head was filled with right now. I swallowed hard and tried a third time, and yet, the air was only filled with more silence.

…And quiet footfalls as James oh-so-slowly walked toward me. I stood there, quite literally frozen, wearing what felt like a horrified expression – which could only be explained by the fact that I was horrified at myself for giving him reason over the past six and a half years to have that expression. He stopped when he was about a foot away from me. No one was breathing.

I opened my mouth, again, desperately hoping something would come out. I heard a faint whisper escape me, but I'm not sure what it told him.

"Sorry?" He whispered back, audibly. Necks stretched themselves in our direction, and ear strained to hear my reply.

I'm not sure how I could repeat something if I didn't know what I said, but, my brain being faster than me decided to repeat it, anyway. "You love me?" I asked, again, in a voice with just slightly more oomph and articulation than the last time. Why did you ask that? He just told you he did, stupid.

His only response was to step a tiny, brave step closer to me and smile a tiny, shy smile at me.

"Oh," I breathed, my breath caressing his Too-Close-Not-Close-Enough face. He stepped another small step toward me, although, I think that one was unintentional, because his eyes were closed, and when he opened them back up, he seemed surprised at our obvious closeness.

I looked up from his cheek into his eyes, and saw beautiful, smoldering, loving, bright, hazel eyes.

"JUST KISS HER, POTTER, SHE'S _RIGHT_. _THERE_." Some random student yelled at him. He stopped breathing.

My eyes slipped from his to his lips. And I took a miniscule step forward – giving him the okay to go.

He tilted my head up with his index finger before gently pressing his lips to mine, and then pulled back instantly and stared at me. I smiled at him shyly, and he let out a shaky breath.

He then laughed and said "YEAH!" To which every student in the hall laughed at and started cheering. He then wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up – kissing me. I squealed in terror, but gave him what he wanted, anyway, by wrapping my legs around his torso and entangling my fingers in his hair.

Bad things aren't the only things that come from hate.

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